


a matter of chance

by pr_scatterbrain



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 14:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18693637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_scatterbrain/pseuds/pr_scatterbrain
Summary: There are laws and there are loopholes. Growing up as a ward of a very wealthy family, Sidney knows first hand how both are used and abused.He knows what the lawyers will say before they say it; he will receive nothing.But Evgeni -Though he was a second son, he was always the favourite.He will receive everything.





	a matter of chance

**Author's Note:**

> This is half angst, half p.g. wodehouse, and also some jane austen (mostly because this was an excuse to rewatch p&p). I wrote this as a response to an [arranged marriage prompt](https://pr-scatterbrain.tumblr.com/post/184281753820/arranged-marriage-prompts) that an anon sent me on tumblr. The prompt was: 
> 
> Arranged Marriage Prompts: Regency au - Person A inheriting Person B’s father’s estate and the only way to keep Person B’s family out of the poor house is for Person B to marry Person A.

.

 

 

 

There are laws and there are loopholes. Growing up as a ward of a very wealthy family, Sidney knows first hand how both are used and abused.

He knows what the lawyers will say before they say it; he will receive nothing.

But Evgeni -

Though he was a second son, he was always the favourite.

He will receive everything.

 

  

“It’s perfect,” Evgeni says, when he proposes the idea like it is his own.

It isn’t.

But it is a proposal.

 

  

It’s a terrible idea, as most of Evgeni’s ideas tend to be, but it’s not like Sidney has any better ones. Evgeni says that to his face when corners Sidney while he’s shifting through the tray of letters and calling cards that keep arriving.

“You don’t want to get married,” Sidney says.

Evgeni is Sidney friend, perhaps his dearest friend and certainly his oldest. He is brave, bright, and stubborn to the marrow of his bones. Currently he is in the middle of a university degree that he isn’t terribly interested in completing. The month before last, he spent a good half of his holiday long weekend sleeping off a hangover instead of joining the opening of the annual hunt with Sidney like he promised.

Technically, they are cousins. Or technically, they aren’t cousins. If they were truly cousins, then perhaps Sidney could inherit… something. As it currently stands, Sidney has no claim - not to his home, not to his family fortune, not even to his family name.

“You don’t want to get married either,” Evgeni tells him. “That’s what makes it perfect.”

Sidney glances at him.

Evgeni’s mouth is twitching and he looks terribly pleased with himself.

God, Sidney thinks. It is too early in the morning for a proposal of marriage.

At the funeral, when all of the Malkin’s had come, it was Evgeni who shadowed Sidney. With Taylor away at a Swiss boarding school, Sidney was alone. It was Evgeni’s hand on the small of his back, gentle as always as he guided Sidney away from the church and into the privacy of the carriage. It was he who handled the condolences at the wake, and he too, who poured Sidney a drink before putting him to bed.  

Now it is the morning and -  

The proposal of marriage sits between them.

Sidney -

Evgeni smiles like he knows, but he doesn’t.

“Marry me,” he tells Sidney. “We can continue as we always have, only I won’t have to worry about you committing yourself to some bore or brute or-”

“An American?” Sidney asks.

It didn’t go unnoticed how Evgeni reacted to the sight of Jack Johnston’s calling card.

Sidney puts down the mail. “Did your mother ask this of you?”

Evgeni makes a face.

 

 

 It is not the first time someone has suggested Sidney marries a Malkin.

As a young teenager Sidney had gone on one very awkward carriage ride with Evgeni’s older brother, Denis. It was the longest half an hour of his life. Though Sidney always liked Denis, who had a steady temperament marked by a sense of consideration and sensitivity towards others, they were not a match in any other sense bar friendship.

The outing was organised by Denis’ and Evgeni’s aunt, and Sidney’s guardian; Vasilisa.

Though the match was encouraged by her and also by Evgeni’s parents, the carriage ride had been the cause of conniptions amongst the extended Malkin family. Many furious letters were sent via express post. When they received no response, two of Vasilisa’s great aunts travelled from Moscow to London to shame Vasilisa in person. Not that that worked. Many years had passed since Vasilisa ran away with the Commander in Chief of the Cosixan Cavalry but she was little changed from the stubborn youth she was then.

All the yelling had given Sidney a roaring headache.

Evgeni had found it all hilarious, but he would. He had taken great pleasure in teasing both his brother and Sidney. Denis had little patience for Evgeni - but Sidney blushed the prettiest pink and had refused to dance a single dance with him at the midsummer ball, not even a single quadrille.

“Don’t be unfair,” Evgeni told him at the time.

Sidney refused to budge an inch. “You are not short on potential partners. Ask someone else.”

That was not the point. Evgeni said as much. As much as he could easily go and offer his hand to the youngest Sheary or their old friend Patrice, it wasn’t the same. Yet Sidney could not be reasoned with. However he did share his champagne and sweet, mountain strawberries - which more than made up for it - tucked away in a quiet spot just outside the ballroom.

 

 

Most of Evgeni’s childhood was intertwined with Sidney’s.

They had spent summers tangled together. Endless days were spent out in the woodlands of Vasilisa’s country estate playing games and having adventures. Together they rode their horses mile after mile along ancient bridle paths and jumping fallen logs, and spent numerous mornings hiding in the undergrowth waiting to catch sight of new born fawns. After receiving a telescope for his thirteenth birthday, he kept Sidney up most of the night star gazing and talking. Sometimes when balls were thrown, the two of them watched from the top flight of stairs. Back then they didn’t have champagne to share, but they were never short on sweets.  

When Evgeni wasn’t with Sidney, he was entertaining Sidney’s younger sister, Taylor, with ribbons and stories. She was fair and sweet and it was very easy for Evgeni to love her like the sister he never had.

They were always Evgeni’s favourite cousins. He had never understood the derision of his extended family.  

Even now, no one in Evgeni’s family is exactly sure they came from.

Are they illegitimate? Are they adopted? No one knows.

They appeared, fully formed, by Vasilisa’s side when she re-entered society and were introduced simply as Sidney and Taylor.

Both then and now, no one quite knows what to think. Or. They knew exactly what to think. Evgeni knows his family history and it isn’t a surprise that the Malkin’s are all united when it comes to this one thing; they will not be allowed to inherit.

Evgeni was never meant to inherit either.

As the second son in an important family, he always knew his place. He grew up half in the country, in an echoing palace and half in the city, behind closed doors. The heir and the spare. Maybe he is the spare but he is the right sort. The right name. The right face. That counted for a lot in his family.

Evgeni’s family has a grand, illustrious history. Or so he is repetitively told. Not that much of it sticks. Most of his childhood is spent nodding off during history lessons when he would much rather be outside in the stables playing with the latest littler of hunting hounds. More than once he is woken by the sharp cough of his tutor clearing their throat.

Evgeni never means to cause trouble.

“You still cause it,” his mother tells him, straightening his jacket collar and frowning a little at the ink on the cuff of his shirt sleeves.

He does.

Unfortunately it is a family trait - or so he learns.

As much as the personal, history of the Malkin family is interwoven with the history of Russia, there are also many family secrets. Many things swept under the rug. One of them, perhaps the most shameful, is Vasilisa Malkin. Though she is not a Malkin any longer. It’s been years, decades since she was disowned.

Evgeni has no idea who she is, when his family go to stay with her in her country estate. Foolishly Evgeni assumes she is, perhaps, a family friend. Or a business acquaintance of his parent’s.

“We are blood,” she tells him, because no one else will.

She had his dark eyes, and the same tangled, glossy hair that he has. It’s cut short, and he can see her ears poke through the heavy waves. They glitter with jewels, dripping against the long column of her neck, swaying when she leans close to speak to him.  

Yes, Evgeni realises. She is.

They are - family. In truth and in the eyes of society.

The latter is a new development only brought on by the diamond ring she now wears. After  a lifetime of troublemaking, Vasilisa married well. Very, very well. The news traveled quickly. And now she is a Malkin again, even though her name is now both old and English.

 

 

Evgeni knows how he can be.

The more he thinks about it, the more perfect the idea is. If they marry, then Sidney will be safe and he will be a  _Malkin_. Not a ward of the Malkin’s or the rumoured illegitimate son of a Malkin, but a Malkin by law. The name carries weight, even outside of Russia. With it as a shield, Evgeni will have some peace of mind.

“Lucky you,” Sidney tells him.

Although his voice is light, his shoulders are tense and he is holding himself carefully.   

“Sidka,” Evgeni says, the old childhood nickname slipping from his mouth.

Carefully, he takes Sidney’s hand in his and laces their fingers together.

“Zhenya,” Sidney says, his voice coming out wrong; all grief stained and tender.

In the quiet of the vast manor house, they sit probably too close to each other. The rest of the Malkin family are yet to wake. They have taken over every wing, every room, every inch. Even Taylor’s room has been claimed for use, but now it is just them. And - Sidney knows him. He means it. He means everything he says.

“This isn’t a solution,” Sidney says.

Evgeni rubs his thumb over Sidney’s knuckles.

“Let me do this,” he tells Sidney.

Much of Evgeni’s youth was marked by expressions of romance. Most were ill thought out. Certainly all of the poetry he had composed was badly written. Sidney had witnessed it all (and proofread it). So, if nothing else, Evgeni can be honest with him.

“Become my husband,” he tells asks Sidney. “Stay here, in your home and live your life as you please.”

“And what would you do?” Sidney asks, his voice giving away how little he thought of Evgeni’s proposal.

“What I have always done,” Evgeni tells him, which makes Sidney laugh for the first time since the funeral and as he does, something in Evgeni’s heart twist.

 

 

The thing about Evgeni is, he tends to always get what he wants.

The thing about Sidney is, he tends to give Evgeni what he wants.

As children it caused all kinds of trouble. As adults it leads to a Spring wedding that is the social event of the season.

 

 

The night before they wed, Kristopher appears. At first Evgeni assumes it’s to see Sidney, but he is wrong.

“You don’t have to marry him,” Kristopher says, when he takes Evgeni out drinking at his club.

Evgeni -

Kris looks at him. “You don’t.”

“My family made sure he has nothing,” Evgeni says, speaking plainly.

His brother and his parents have always loved Sidney. However they have little say in the politics and power play of their extended family. The people who do make those decisions had devoted their not inconsiderable resources to insure that Sidney would not walk away from their family with anything of meaning.

After their engagement was announced, a notice was printed in the morning paper. The footman sourced an extra dozen copies for Evgeni to send out to friends and family. It was a thoughtful gesture. But unnecessary - none of his family were happy. Most of the mail that had arrived since then was from his grandparents, and various great aunts and uncles. It was all the same message. It was all a waste of paper.

Kristopher leans close. He is not one easily put off, even by indelicate statements. Too late Evgeni remembers how brutal Kristopher can be in his own honesty.

“You could give him a fine living. You could provide Taylor with a healthy dowry. You don’t need to marry him.”

Evgeni shakes his head.

“You don’t know,” Evgeni says.

Evgeni does not ask how he knows of the truth of their engagement, because it is obvious. Sidney has few confidants and while Evgeni can claim to be one of them he cannot claim to be the only.  

Kristopher has a mean expression on his face. It’s hidden by the sharp cut of his jaws and the brilliance of his eyes, but Evgeni can see it. Though they run in the same circles, he was always a particular friend to Sidney. It was something that always brought Evgeni comfort. Sidney had never been at ease amongst society. There was always someone with something sly and cruel to say behind his back. Kristopher had never been one of them.

Here, now, his mouth is narrow.

“You don’t love him,”

“Of course I love him,” Evgeni says.

“No, you don’t,” Kristopher says.

“I can keep him safe,” Evgeni says. Promises.

Kristopher laughs. It’s a mean sound. Then he looks away.

 

 

The following day after making their vows and promises, Evgeni gives Sidney a ring made of far too many diamonds that glitters brilliantly in the sunlight. A flattering description of it ends up in the social column in two different newspapers. It isn’t Sidney’s style, but it is Evgeni’s.

The wedding is a grand affair. The wedding night is a non-event. Evgeni stays up the entire night talking/arguing/drinking with his large circle of friends who all travel from around the globe to witness the event. At least half of them thought it was an elaborate joke. The other half know better.

Sergei Gonchar isn’t sure where he falls. As best man, he supposes he should have a handle on Evgeni. But he is a ridiculous creature. Everyone knows that, apart from Sidney who always encourages his antics. It figured that they would end up married to each other.

It also came as no surprised when Sidney disappeared part way through the night.

“He’s around here somewhere,” Kristopher says when Sergei speaks to him.

Kristopher doesn’t sound concerned. He never does even in his role as best man.

As it turns out, they find Sidney asleep in an alcove.

“He’s probably hiding from everyone who wants to make him dance,” Kristopher muses.

‘Everyone’ is now only Evgeni, but Sidney’s dislike of dancing is widely known.

“Should I wake him?” Kristopher asks.

Sergei shrugs.

They leave Sidney be.

 

 

There isn’t a honeymoon, but Evgeni gifts both Sidney and himself a very smart looking watch from Faberge. On the back he engraves the date of their wedding.

“I am allowed some indulgences,” he tells Sidney before Sidney can comment on it.

Sidney supposes they both are.

 

 

It’s funny how quickly things change. Or don’t change.

After the week of fuss that lead up to the wedding, the following week passes without distinction. Sidney spends a lot of time composing thank you notes while Evgeni returns to university.

“Should I stay in the city?” Sidney asks, not quite knowing what to do.

Evgeni makes a face. He knows how greatly Sidney dislikes the busy, noisy city.

“Your horses need exercise,” Evgeni tells him. “And the hounds won’t spoil themselves.”

The prospect of escape back to the country is enough to make Sidney brighten up, and before the week is out their lives have more or less gone back to normal. Evgeni sleeps through lectures and goes to parties and has a lot to say about the disgraceful behaviour of Alexander Ovechkin. Perhaps the only change is with a fortune to Evgeni’s name, he finds it much easier to get a good table at his favourite clubs and to spend more than he should on most occasions.

Sidney seems equally content in the country - or so his letters say.

They exchange a lot of letters. They always have. In boarding school they were forever sending off messages. Now, without anyone to ration their use of paper or postage money, they send more.

From the letters Evgeni receives, Sidney seems extraordinarily well. He writes pages and pages about the books he is reading and the improvements he is implementing on the estate, Taylor’s adventures at her Swiss boarding school and the rumours of a new railway line being built through the mountains. Though his penmanship could be better, his writing style is clever and engaging. Often Evgeni finds himself laughing aloud and sharing the best parts with his friends.

They are often over at Evgeni’s newly inherited city home.

As is Evgeni’s mother.

Terribly fond of Sidney, she has been in wonderful spirits since they wed. This has lead to a sharp reduction in the level of rebuke he finds directed at him, and much more praise which he accepts as his due.

All in all, Evgeni discovers that he rather likes being married.

He has no idea why Sergei laughed at him when Evgeni explained how simple it was going to be.  

 

 

Part way through Evgeni’s final semester of the year, Sidney receives a letter with a postmark from Egypt. Apparently there was a party and at some point during the night a proposal made. Not the kind he made to Sidney, but one that involves tombs and pyramids and lost treasures.

From what Sidney can tell, it sounds quite exciting.

It is not surprise that Evgeni takes a sabbatical from his studies. Though blessed with a sharp mind, there are more than few things that he is ill suited for. One of them is a life in academia. There is so much of the world to see, and Sidney doesn’t doubt that there are many parts of it Evgeni would like much more than the dusty library and lecture halls of his university.

Sidney’s neighbour, the Honourable Marc Andre Fleury of Montford Abbey is not impressed.

“What kind of husband is he?”

Sidney shrugs.

Evgeni is his husband, he supposes.

“I knew who I was marrying,” he tells his friend.

Marc Andre - Flower - sniffs.

A secret that Sidney doesn’t think Flower would approve of, is Sidney rather likes his marriage.

The vulgar ring Evgeni gave him has proven an excellent excuses to forgo balls and galas. Though the Winter Season has begun, he is far away from the fuss of it. No longer does he find himself spending evenings at balls stepping on toes or awkwardly making small talk about his marriage prospects. Neither does he have to endure dinner parties where he spends most of the night trying to ignore thinly veiled insults about his birth/standing in society. Instead he has all of his evenings to himself - to read, to write, to organise the estate exactly to his pleasing.

If he misses having Evgeni around. Well. Sidney is used to that. Or he will get used to that.

“Sid,” Flower says.

Sidney shrugs. “I never liked travel.”

It isn’t a lie. For much of Sidney’s life he grew up in transit. After his parents passed and Evgeni’s Aunt Vasilisa became his guardian, his life became little more than a suitcase, a train ticket, a dogeared book. Like Evgeni, Vasilisa had loved travel. Before remarrying, she had taken Sidney and Taylor all over the world. Looking back, Sidney remembers being happy in odd shapes. His sister with her sticky hands from the peaches and her sweet mumbles as she eats.

The three of them were never particularly well suited to the well heeled social circles they ended up in. Not even when Vasilisa married into them.  

“They don’t know what to make of us,” Vasilisa told Sidney and Taylor like it was some kind of secret.

It’s been almost a year since she past, and in Sidney’s memory it is if she is captured in amber like some kind of bird of paradise amongst the muted colour of high society.

It was no wonder Evgeni was always her favourite.

He shines so brightly, and so honestly. There is not a person alive that he isn’t able to charm, and no a room in the world he wouldn’t be able to walk through without turning heads. Adventure is in his blood, and the wind is at his back.

Sidney doesn’t know how to tell Flower any of that. When he tries it comes out wrong. He somehow always manages to say the wrong thing no matter what language he is conversing in.

“You’re a fool,” Flower tells him not for the first time.

Sidney laughs.

That he knows. 

 

 

Evgeni writes when he can. Unsurprisingly, his trip to Egypt becomes a Grand Tour. A true adventure. He goes to Venice, to Paris, to Berlin - he even manages to take a detour to visit Taylor in her Swiss boarding school.

Her mouth twitches when she sees him. She is so very like Sidney, but where he laughs at Evgeni’s jokes, she rolls her eyes.

“Are you treating each other well?” she asks.

“Of course,” Evgeni tells her.

Just this week Evgeni sent Sidney a box of books he had picked up for him at a Roman bookseller. Most were about history, which Sidney was sure to enjoy. Perhaps one or two were rather racy, but Sidney could do with a bit of excitement every now and then. Someone has to keeps Sidney on his toes and if Evgeni doesn’t, no one will.

“Well,” Taylor says. “That sounds typical. I had hoped for better.”

So had Evgeni’s mother, but she will have to console herself with the fact that at least one of her children married Sidney, even if it wasn’t Denis.

“There is still time for you to make good on that,” Evgeni tells her, because that would delight his mother. She always loved Taylor and if she married Denis it would make a neat seat for her.

At this, Taylor tilts her head back and laughs like a hyena.

She was always much more fun than her brother.

 

 

As much as things stay the same, one thing does change.

The odd thing about being married is Evgeni doesn’t exactly feel comfortable falling in love. Or, lust. It catches him off guard. He still flirts, still has fun but when time comes to take a hand and be led to a quiet spot he finds himself shaking his head.

“Nerves?” Nikolay Kulemin asks.

They are old friends, too old really, for these kind of things.

“Not too old, yet,” Nikolay says, grinning slyly.

He is married too. To a Canadian with an excellent shot; John Tavares.

“Don’t worry about that,” Nikolay tells Evgeni. “We’re a few thousand miles out of his sightline.”

According to gossip, his husband is having an affair with the local vicar’s eldest son. If he’d been smarter, he wouldn’t have married Nikolay. But then, if he hadn’t, then Nikolay wouldn’t be here in Constantinople with Evgeni.

“Without my darling John, I wouldn’t have access to the trusts my Grandfather left for me. For that I will always be thankful,” Nikolay says, which is true but it isn’t the truth.

Well. Not entirely. Or it’s his truth.

For Evgeni? It shouldn’t be an issue. In fact it should be a non-issue. John may have made promises in good faith to Nikolay, but Evgeni and Sidney had always been in agreement about what their marriage was. Evgeni should be having fun. He should be having affairs and flings and romances with strangers. He should be falling in love. But. It doesn’t feel…

He doesn’t know.

It doesn’t quite feel right.

 

 

At Constantinople, in his hotel, Evgeni finds a bundle of redirected mail waiting for him. It’s been routed and rerouted, and finally it has caught up to him and his travels. The envelopes bare postage marks from all the places they have been too and sent from as they chased him. Sidney’s handwriting stands out. In places the ink has smudged, but there is care in each letter of Evgeni’s name carefully spelt out.  

Not drunk but maybe a little tipsy Evgeni cracks the wax seal on Sidney’s letters and read them one by one.

They are funny, charming, and if Evgeni closes his eyes he almost feels like he can hear Sidney’s voice. Bringing them close, he inhales. The scent on the pages brings him home.

 

 

Without noticing it, Sidney’s life takes shape around him. And he is - happy, he realises.

The estate is his and truly feels like home. He lives surrounded by friends and even family too. Towards the end of summer his brother-in-law and parents-in-laws visit. With them, they bring noise and laughter and friendly bickering. They stay for three sunshine filled weeks.

The only sticking point is…

Sidney can’t help but notice the space that Evgeni would fill if he was there with them. The estate is quiet without him. Not empty, but not as full of life as it has been in the past when they were all together. His kindness, his sense of humour, and the warmth he brings with him is irreplaceable.

“Where is he now?” Denis asks.

“Uhm, the Mediterranean,” Sidney tells him. “Or so I believe.”

Denis nods. His own grand tour was a little less grand and a little shorter. It started and ended after one season in London and a week in Paris.

It’s fine.

It’s all fine.

Only -

Sidney doesn’t know.

 

 

Flower does know, and doesn’t hesitate to tell Sidney. Not that Sidney will listen.

Years of friendship, of growing up alongside each other. How could Sidney have fallen in love with Evgeni and not known it?

The thought is impossible.

Impossible.

 

 

The year comes to a close and just like birds migrate with the changing seasons, so does Evgeni.

On Christmas Eve he returns home with a few extra suitcases, endless stories, and with gifts for everyone. He plans on it being a surprise, but it doesn’t quite work out that way. Instead of sneaking in, he is caught by Sidney who is out riding a very fine looking horse that Evgeni doesn’t recognise. A wedding gift to himself, Evgeni hopes.

“Welcome home,” Sidney tells him.

“Hello husband,” Evgeni says, pulling down the window of his carriage as the driver brings the horse drawn carriage to a halt.

The words feels funny in his mouth. He had intended them as a joke, but they don’t feel like one. Sidney laughs nevertheless; breathless, and reaching out they hug. It’s an awkward embrace, half on horseback and half in a carriage, but it’s worth it. Evgeni presses his nose into Sidney’s soft curls and inhales the scent of cypress and leather and  _home_.

God. How long has it been?

He must say that because Sidney replies; “Far too long.”

His voice is just the same.

Evgeni can’t help but laugh. Then, embarrassingly, he feels himself tear up. Fisting Sidney’s soft tweed riding jacket in his hands, Evgeni holds onto him. His breathing must give him away, because Sidney brings his free hand up and touches his jaw.

“Oh Zhenya, don’t cry”

And -

With one hand, Sidney fumbles with the reins. His horse shifts a little, and Evgeni tries to bring himself under control but he can’t. It’s been nearly a year since they last saw each other and suddenly Evgeni feels like such a fool. What is a pyramid or an ancient ruin compared to this?

He doesn’t say that, but it’s close.

 

 

Sidney walks his horse alongside Evgeni’s carriage all the way up the long driveway. Holding the reins at the buckle, he lets his gelding amble along and take his time. They could easily pick up the pace, but selfishly Sidney wants to have Evgeni to himself, if only for a few extra minutes. At any moment now Sidney knows someone will spot them from a window, and by the time they reach the end of the drive all of their family will be waiting for them. For now though, it is just them.

Evgeni’s face is bright, and lovely. With the carriage window open, the cold air has made his cheeks flush with colour and the tips of his ears go red.

Sidney offers his scarf, but Evgeni refuses to take it.

“A little breeze never hurt anyone,” he says with a smile.

 

 

Christmas is glorious - it is a tradition that is just theirs. Something that the six of them share - seven once. It was a tradition started by Vasilisa for her two Canadian ward - the children of the friends who had taken her in when the Malkin’s had disowned her. Under strings of popcorn and garlands of fresh evergreen branches, they exchange gifts. It’s sweet and small and although Evgeni brings them all far too many presents, it’s uncomplicated the way few things in the Malkin family are.

The days which follow are a haze -

The house - Evgeni’s home - feels so fill. So does his heart. Once or twice it overwhelms him, and he finds himself needing to take a moment to sit in one of Sidney’s hidden alcoves. Not for long; just a moment or two. Sidney always seems to find him. His face so familiar and dear to Evgeni.

“I missed you,” Evgeni finds himself telling Sidney.

It’s a terribly emotional thing to say. Typically really, of him. But it’s worth it, just to see Sidney blush.

“Me too,” Sidney tells him.

 

 

The New Years Eve party gathers most of the neighbourhood together under their roof. The party is a riot of laughter and music and fun.

As the clock nears midnight, Evgeni steals glasses of sweet wine and shares it with Sidney.

They sit up away from the party, on the landing on the top flight of stairs.

Sidney’s mouth is pink from the sweets he is eating. When Evgeni offers him a handkerchief to brush away the crumbs of sugar, Sidney accepts it. Downstairs the party is going strong. Looking through the balustrades, Evgeni catches sight of Flower sweeping Matt Murray into a spirited waltz and Kristopher helping his wife, Catherine, with the trail of her dress. Over by the fireplace, Sergei and Alexander are gesturing with glasses of liquor in hand.

All of their friends and family are present.

Evgeni has never seen Sidney happier.

The only moment that wavers, is after midnight, when the streamers have been flung and most of the champagne has been opened.

“It’s been so nice,” he tells Evgeni, “having you here.”

“Then why are you looking so sad?”

Reaching over, Evgeni touches Sidney’s hand and Sidney smiles a little.

“I’m going to miss you when you leave.”

And -

Evgeni can’t help it -

He has never been good at keeping secrets, especially not from Sidney who he is accustomed to telling everything to.

Of course Evgeni loves him - loves his stubborn, impossible husband.

And of course Kristopher was right.

A true gentleman would have offer Sidney a fine living, or some kind of dowry that would attract the right kind of suitor. But the thought of that -

Evgeni had offered marriage.

But he had loved Sidney for so many years before that.

 

 

Sidney doesn’t know what to say. Inside his chest his heart has paused. It hold still, trembling with each breath he takes.

Sidney looks at the handkerchief in his hands. Evgeni’s initials are embroidered in the corner. The stitching is beautiful. Evgeni has always loved beautiful things. But it is not so beautiful now. It will need to be laundered and pressed before Sidney returns it.

“Sid,” Evgeni says, his voice soft. “My Sidka.” 

He is waiting for an answer.

Sidney closes his eyes.

There is only one answer to give - only one answer he can give.

“Of course I love you too,” he tells Evgeni - tells his husband. “Always.”

And he laughs.

“Stay,” he tells Evgeni. “Stay, please, and be my husband.”

Evgeni’s beautiful face breaks into a smile. “I will never leave.”

 

 

 

.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the Jane Austen quote, _'Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance.'_
> 
> Find/follow me on [tumblr](http://www.pr-scatterbrain.tumblr.com) if you want <3


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